So I went and did the official bio-feedback therapy today. Holy crap was that both the strangest experience of my life and a HUGE waste of my time.

How huge? I'm so glad you asked. (For reference, her words are in italics, my words are in quotes and my internal monologue is in parentheses).

The appointment began normally enough. I was called back promptly by a woman who, if I had to guess, is from the same area of the world as Arnold Schwarzenegger.

"Hello, I'm [name, which I don't remember]. Why ahre you here today?"

We conversed at length about my medical history and she said she just wanted to evaluate my "muskles" and soft tissues today and then we could develop a plan. So the first thing she does is stand behind the chair I'm in and starts whoorling my head around in circles.

She does not tell me what she's doing, she doesn't say to relax or to oppose her, she's just slow-motion whiplashing the shit out of me. And continuing to ask questions THE WHOLE TIME.

"Do you see how tight you are here? See how your neck won't go any farther?"(Perhaps it's because I'm trying to talk and because, oh, I don't know, a surgeon removed part of my top 2 vertebrae and my head is physically incapable of moving that way)"Oh, yea. I see what you mean." (The first lie of many).

She then asked to see how I usually sleep at night. So I grabbed two pillows and laid down.

"You ah so guarded. Look, you're legs are crossed when you lie down." And then she grabs my knee and starts wiggling my leg. Like just wiggling it back and forth. I'm expecting her to stop any second, but she keeps this up for several minutes. "I'm just going to stop the status quo. I'm going to interrupt it. We need to change your body."(Stop wiggling my fucking leg. Seriously. This is not going against the status quo, this is being obnoxious. How does my thigh fat jiggling help my headache?)

"You ah too controlled. You need to let go. I'm going to leave your leg here. Don't move it" And then she left my left leg hanging awkwardly off the bed.(What. the. fuck.)

And then she moves up and starts, with one hand on either side of my boob, smashing my ribs. "See, even this is tense"(THEY ARE MY RIBS. I rather like them to be tight actually. I pride my ribs in their ability to not relax and crush my innards. And seriously, you are a little too all up in my boob grill right now)

And then she starts attacking my breastbone. Like CPR, just much faster. Like if you wanted your heart to beat 200 times a minute, which oddly, I didn't. First with one hand, then with both. I'm literally seeing spots because seriously, you don't make a heart beat that much if you want the person to stay alive.

And then she gets to my head and the real party begins. First she's just like finger molesting me all over. Neck, head, ears, cheeks. And she finally gets herself situated where she's stretching my neck with one hand and pinching my ear (I shit you not) with the other.

"You ah too detached. You need to focus."(I am focusing. On dead puppies. Trust me, I'm focused.)"Okay." So I opened my eyes and just continued to think about dead puppies with my eyes open.

Then, out of the blue, she was thrilled. "Yes! Yes, this is what I want!"(Holy shit, what did I do? Did I lean into or away from the stretch? Did I make eye contact? Gah. I have no idea.)

"You felt that just now? How does it feel- better or worse?"(SHIT. Which answer does she want? Shit shit shit. It feels like you're ripping my head in half. So, let's see...)"Um, better. I think that feels better."

"I told you it would."(Nailed it.)

And this continued for 30 minutes. Me, lying on the bed with one leg hanging off the side thinking about dead puppies, her contorting my neck, pinching my ears or neck flab and alternately commenting on my detachment and involvement throughout the process.

At the end she says, "Now, don't you feel better? We got a lot of work done today."(Fuck no I don't)."Yes definitely."(Lie number 10 trillion)

"When do you want to come back for your next visit"(Never)"I'll call tomorrow to schedule my appointment. I don't have my calendar with me." (Lie. I won't call and I did have my calendar)

And then I walked out, never EVER to return again. Frankly, I'm just concerned that I'd require a whole new therapist for the dead puppy issue and I really don't have the money for that intervention.

9
comments:

carolyn
said...

Katie, I have done biofeedback before and that wasn't even remotely it. Good grief girl, I wish all this would work itself out already. No one should have to keep dealing with this like you are.

MOM did that for a few months before she died. They called it pain management or reflexology or something. They strongly believed there were trigger points that held your pain. They also doled out pain meds if you wanted them and stood in line once a week and took the meds under their noses.

Mom didn't lie to them. "Nope, still in pain."

And I've been meaning to ask, my addict-savvy briother says Imitrex isn't a narcotic. Does it just not work for you? A freind had to shoot it into her neck, I'd think that would be a down side as well.

Imitrex isn't a narcotic (to my understanding). It is a great migraine med that my mother takes at least once a day, sometimes more often. It's something I've tried for headache relief, but with no success (for this headache at least, for actual migraines it's worked well for me).

Now shooting it into my neck I have not tried. Will add it to the short list of desperate measures yet to be attempted.

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About Me

I'm a 26 year old former teacher turned full time graduate student. I live in Southern California after a 3 year stint in New Orleans with my husband Slappy (formerly The Fiance) and our cats (yea, we're those people).
In February of 2006 I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation, which is a fancy way of saying that my brain was too big for my skull (get it? overflowing brain). On November 27th, 2007 I had brain surgery which allows my brain to exist indefinitely in my spinal canal. 13 staples, one cow heart lining and a multitude of doctors and medications later, I'm living a much improved decompressed life.